Through the Years
by nfwbls
Summary: Stacie's story WIP


Disclaimer: The BBC/AMC and whoever else owns Hustle; I'm just playing in their sandbox.

**Through the years – part I**

"Vice squad. Open up!" The pounding shook the door on its hinges. "C'mon, I know you're in there. Open the door!"

Stacie squealed and hid her face under the covers while the middle-aged gentleman next to the bed fumbled with his trousers, pulling them over his portly frame and then stumbling towards the door. He opened it a crack but before he could say anything, he was pushed back as a slim man in plain clothes forced himself into the room, flashing a detective's identification before closing the door behind him.

A pathetic wailing came from the vicinity of the bed. "Fer chrissake, what 'ave you coppers got against a girl makin' a livin'? It's not like I'm doin' anyone any 'arm, am I? It's just a little business. Why are you always on my case?"

"Oh my God, you're a... _prostitute_?" The comic horror in the man's voice wouldn't have been convincing even if he hadn't been trying to surreptitiously retrieve the pound notes he'd left tucked under the clock on the nightstand; the policeman's sharp eyes pinned him back as he made a great show of pulling handcuffs out from behind his back. "Get your clothes on, both of you. I'm taking you in."

"C'mon, copper. Cut us a break, wontcha? I'll make it worth your while." Stacie let the sheet slip a bit, revealing creamy skin and a bit of lace. The officer hesitated a moment and then flashed a charming smile, "Sorry, not interested in taking it out in trade."

"P-perhaps some other arrangement could be made?" the older man suggested, hesitantly. He fingered the money on table nervously. A wary look came over the policeman's face and then in a sudden movement he pushed the john against the wall, frisking him quickly.

"Are you a cop? Wearing a wire?" he asked roughly.

"No! Absolutely not! I just... I... oh God, my wife will kill me if she finds out!" the man blubbered in terror. "Please, I've got money. Enough to make it worth your while if you could look the other way."

"How much?"

"A... a hundred quid?"

"That's not enough to make me give you a head start, much less look the other way."

"I have more! Just let me to the ATM! I can be back in 10 minutes with... err.. five hundred?"

The policeman snorted. "What kind of a fool do you take me for?"

"You can come with me!"

After a moment's hesitation, the cop nodded. "All right, get your clothes on and we'll go."

"What about me?" screeched Stacie at him.

Dark eyes raked over her and she shrank back against the pillow. His thin lips turned up in a humourless smile as he glanced down at the cuffs still in his hand. He walked over to the bed and clipped one bracelet around her wrist, the other around the bedpost. "You'll stay here. That way, if this gentleman tries to make a break for it before I get my money, I can bring you in to incriminate him. And if it goes off, well then, maybe I can get your half in trade after all."

He led the older man out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Just fifteen minutes later he let himself back into the room, alone. She looked at him apprehensively as he shrugged out of his jacket and began to loosen his tie. She tugged ineffectually at her wrist. "Well?"

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wad of notes, flashing her a gigantic grin. "Went off like a charm. Six hundred quid, not bad for an hour's work."

"Six hundred? I thought he said five?"

"I made him throw in an extra hundred for err... your time." His wink was pure devilry.

"Jake, you're evil," she said with a laugh. "Ok, let me out of these and let's get going."

"Why rush? We've got time and you look rather fetching..."

"Jake..." she warned, but he was already at the bed, slipping the sheet down her body. She murmured another protest but her heart wasn't in it as he dropped kisses down the arch of her neck, then lower, between her breasts toward her navel, awakening the familiar tingle in her belly. The handcuff rattled as she struggled against it and her last coherent words were, "I should have insisted the last time I asked you to teach me how to pick locks..."

"Thank God I didn't..." he groaned against her skin.

* * *

An hour later they were up, straightening the room and making sure no trace of them was left behind. She looked at the rumpled bed and sighed. "You know, just once, I'd like to be the detective and you could be the prossie."

He snickered. "I'd make a damn ugly whore. We'd be lucky to pull in a fiver with my face." His arms snaked around her waist and he nuzzled her neck behind her ear. "Besides, you're the most gorgeous lure in the business. No one would believe your face on a cop."

Irritated, she pulled away. "I can do other things, you know."

"Of course you can. But you're so bloody beautiful... you could lead a man to anything with just a smile. It's your gift." It was hard for her to hold on to her displeasure at the look of frank adoration in his eyes. "C'mon, let's get out of here," he cajoled.

She let him lead her out by the hand, although a part of her still prickled in dissatisfaction.

The next morning she'd planned to lounge in bed until noon, content in being five, no six, hundred pounds richer and nothing to do but read a good book or watch the telly, but Jake came in to rouse her at eight.

"What's up?" Her curiosity won over her initial aggravation at having her plans so unceremoniously canceled.

"Got a job. A call out for floaters, good looking couples preferred. Come on, love, out of bed! Word is it's a big score and I want in." Jake practically shoved her into the loo before ransacking the closet for clothes.

"Who's the job for?" she called from behind the door.

"Mickey Bricks. Big time long-con player. You heard of him?"

The door opened. "Mickey Bricks? Yeah, of course I've heard of him. Is he why you want in on the con?"

He looked at her in surprise. "That was fast. Here, put this on." He held out a low cut dress in hot pink.

"Isn't that a little flashy for the daytime?"

"I want to make an impression." He pushed the dress at her again and she took it with reluctance but put it on despite her reservations.

"Jake, what's this all about?"

"Mickey Bricks is a high flier. He knows the right kind of people, runs the right kind of cons. Not this penny-ante short con stuff we've been playing at. Word on the street is that he might be looking to fill an opening in his crew."

"You? On a crew?" she burst out, disbelievingly. "You're not exactly good at taking orders, Jake."

He grinned slyly. "Ah well, love, who's to say that I wouldn't be leading his crew eventually, eh? But even if I don't, I could bear it for a bit while he introduces me to people who ought to know me."

Stacie stepped into a pair of high-heeled sandals and gave her dark hair a flip over her shoulders. She looked stunning. "All right, then. Let's go and make an impression."

* * *

On the way, Jake briefed her with what he knew. They were driving to a warehouse near the riverfront, some sort of staging area. Bricks was going to be there with his crew. The payoff was supposed to be huge, six figures at least, the mark was a high-society couple, but that's all that Jake knew. "Bricks likes to keep his cards close to his vest," he grumbled.

"From what I hear, Bricks is a cool customer. He doesn't chase skirts – not much, anyway, but he likes his women feminine, clever, but not pushy. I want you to get him to notice you."

"Oh super. So now I'm supposed to lure the great Mickey Bricks? Jake, you're mad."

Jake glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, switching his attention from the road for a split second, and grinned. "Mad for you, sweetheart. You'll do fine. Bricks would have to be a corpse not to notice you."

They arrived at their destination, a bleak, decrepit building that had never seen a better day. The smell of the Thames was sour and decayed here, a product of too much garbage and too little tourism. Stacie climbed gingerly out of the car and picked her way across a rubbled parking lot past other cars equally at odds with this depressing location. When they got to the door and let themselves in, a large man with a thuggish face directed down a dusty hall, patchy with sunlight from a dozen broken windows, to a door at the far end.

When they got to the door they could hear sounds of activity behind it just before they pushed it open. A crowd of about thirty milled about, most in groups of three. Stacie recognized Bill, a poker buddy of Jake's, just as he caught sight of them and made his way through the crowd to join them.

"Hallo, Jake. Glad you and Stacie could make it," he clapped Jake on the back. "Let me introduce you around." He led them towards the back of the room where three men, one sitting at another folding table, two standing on either side, huddled around a notebook computer. The seated man had a bit of a hatchet face and an everyman look to him; he was chain-smoking with one hand while the other pecked at the keyboard. Standing to his right was an older man in his late sixties or early seventies, who despite his years carried a rather debonair attitude about him. It was obvious that 30 years earlier he'd have been described as "dashing", even now one could see that he'd been spectacularly handsome as a young man. The man standing to the left was the youngest of the three, with eyes and skin like liquid chocolate, close cropped hair and an aura of command which he wore as easily as the nattily tailored suit that graced his body. All three looked up as Bill approached.

"This is Jake and Stacie Monroe. Jake, Stacie, this is Albert Stroller, Ash Morgan, and Mickey Bricks." indicating each man in turn.

"Stone. Actually it's Mickey Stone," the black man smiled, flashing even white teeth, but his eyes assessed them carefully, taking in every detail. Stacie felt at once overdressed and yet exposed. "Well, it's good to have you aboard. Bill, will you take them over to June? She'll let you in on the details and get you set up, all right?"

Bill shepherded them to a cheery looking woman with a decided limp, who introduced herself as "June Morgan" and began explaining their role in the upcoming con that night. They, like the other couples, were to be present at some sort of society charity event hosted by a Mr. and Mrs. Freemont, outfitted with communications devices so that they could report on the people around them. The instructions were fairly simple but Stacie found it difficult to concentrate; she kept feeling Stone's eyes on her, even though every time she glanced at him he appeared to be immersed in something else. When June was done, she asked both of them to repeat their directions; Stacie was glad that Jake went first, giving her a chance to refocus. June gave them a set of radio receivers, demonstrating how to wear them and use them, and let them go with a cheery, "See you tonight!"

Jake looked around, fully intending to wander over to Bricks and re-introduce himself, but Mickey was nowhere in sight. "Hey June, where has Bricks gone off to?"

"Dunno. I saw all three of them leave a few minutes ago. Ash's coming to pick me up again at around three – I'm sure I'll see Mickey then too. Do you want me to give him a message?"

"No, thanks."

Disappointment oozed from Jake as the two of them left, and Stacie felt a pang for him, but she was secretly glad. She wasn't interested in joining a long-con team; another year, tops, and she and Jake would have enough in their house fund for a cottage in the country and then they'd be out of the grifter's life altogether. Wrapped up in their own thoughts they didn't notice Mickey standing outside the warehouse until he cleared his throat and asked if he could speak to them.

Instantly the slump in Jake's shoulders straightened itself out and the gleam returned to his eye, even as apprehension rose in Stacie's. "Yes, what about then?"

"I need something special tonight. A diversion. And I need Mr. Freemont's attention to be... occupied, for a while. Away from Mrs. Freemont. I thought perhaps the two of you might be willing to do that for me. It would mean a larger share of the score." But Stacie had the impression that Mickey Stone already knew that his enticement was unnecessary.

"Stacie's the best lure in the business," Jake stated proudly, arm hooking around her stiffening waist.

"Yes, I can believe that. You're very striking." His eyes looked gravely into hers, ignoring Jake for the moment. "But if you're not comfortable doing this, just say so and I can ask someone else. It's a bit risky and you don't know me from Adam..."

His gentle voice reassured her while Jake's body pressed to hers nearly thrummed with suppressed excitement, urging her on. Against her better judgment she smiled and said, "It sounds like it'll be quite fun. I'd be happy to do it."

* * *

"What the hell do you mean, you don't know where the money is?" screamed Mrs. Freemont as Mr. Freemont searched frantically for his shoes, his trousers still undone and his shirt unbuttoned.

"I thought you had it!" he shouted back at her.

"You bloody FOOL!" She leaped at him with fingers poised like talons to slash at his face; he grabbed her wrists and as they struggled, Stacie crept silently out of the room, her own shoes in hand. She fled down the hall and through the catering kitchens into the back alley where a limousine waited for her. Tumbling in, five pairs of hands reached out to grab her and pull her through the door as the car sped away.

"That's my girl!" said Jake as he pulled her into his lap for a passionate kiss while the others laughed and toasted her.

"So I take it we have the money?" she asked archly.

"Like a dream," smiled June, her own arm around Ash.

"Marvelously done, my dear," chimed Albert Stroller, popping open a bottle of champagne and pouring it liberally into glasses, somehow managing not to spill a drop despite the movement of the car. "You had quite the touch. I don't think I've seen better."

"Why thank you, Mr. Stroller."

"Albie, my dear. Please, call me Albie from now on."

"Albie?" snorted Mickey. "You don't even let _me_ call you Albie!"

"_You_ are not a beautiful woman, Michael."

Everyone laughed at that until finally Jake asked to see the money. Mickey smiled. "June is our banker. She'll take care of dividing it up and distributing it and we can all get a look at it then." Moans and groans followed, and he relented. "Oh all right, I suppose you can all have a look first."

He pulled a black briefcase from under his seat and popped it open, displaying the contents to the other occupants. "Three hundred and fifty thousand pounds in bearer bonds, my friends."

As the others ooh-ed and ah-ed over it, Stacie was aware of feeling curiously let down now that the adrenalin rush of the con was over. Not that she wasn't happy about the money – far from it. Her and Jake's share would go far to filling up their house fund, but it didn't compare to the rush of working the con itself. She'd never felt quite this same excitement before – working the long con was a completely different animal from the short, like building a spider web instead of simply spinning a thread. For the first time she realized it could be... addictive.

"Seems wrong somehow, taking from a charity," she said, her darker thoughts expressing themselves in an unexpected way.

Mickey sobered. "This is the third year the Freemonts have set up this charity fraud. The first two years worth have gone into their estate in the country and their villa in France. This time at least some of it will actually end up in the hands of the charities they said they'd give it to."

"How do you know they won't just declare it stolen and go to the police?" asked Jake.

"'Cos then they'd have to let the auditors look at their books, and that won't do at all, would it?" Ash grinned his snaggly-toothed grin which suddenly made him handsome.

"And here's to cheating the cheats!" toasted Albert again. "Here, here!" they chorused, back in good humour again.

The car pulled up to Jake and Stacie's flat. As the two got out, Jake turned to shake Mickey's hand. "It's been a pleasure. I'd like to get together with you soon, see if there might be some opportunities that would be mutually beneficial. Word has it that you're looking to expand your crew, and I think Stacie and I might be a good fit."

Mickey smiled. "I'd like to happy to get together, but I should warn you that I'm not planning on bringing someone on full time. Still, I'd think there might be, as you say, opportunities coming up."

That seemed good enough for Jake, who backed out of the car with a jaunty air and turned to beam at his wife before they went inside.

"_'Opportunities that would be mutually beneficial?' _That boy's got a big head on his shoulders, doesn't he?" mocked June.

"Yeah, but he wasn't too bad tonight. Quick on his feet," countered Ash.

"What he lacks in humility he certainly makes up for in confidence." said Albert thoughtfully. "Don't you agree, Mickey?"

"Yes. But I don't like how eager he was to pimp his wife." Mickey's voice was dark and disapproving.

Albert chuckled. "Well, not all of us have your chivalrous nature, my boy..."

* * *

"Mickey wants us for another job." Stacie's voice brightened in excitement.

"Another? That's the third job in, what, a month?" Jake snarled as he pawed through papers on the desk.

"More like two months, and why does that piss you off? You're the one who wanted to work with him."

"I wanted to get to know the right people, get in on the long con, not be Mickey Bricks' bloody errand boy."

"So what do you want me to tell him? No? We could use the money, Jake. You don't want to do the short con any more and we can't live off of your poker winnings. And the house fund hasn't moved in a month." She hated to nag him because lately he'd just get surly when she talked about money.

"When does he want us?"

"Thursday and through the whole weekend. Says he's going to need us to travel a bit with the crew."

"Can't. I've got a huge game on Friday night. High rollers from up north."

"But..." she tried to quell the unease in her stomach. He looked at her and his temper eased. He left the desk and walked over to her, stroked her cheek with his hand and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Look, I'm sorry I lost it. It's just that it's a very big game and I've been setting it up for weeks. When we started working with Mickey, we did it so that I could find the right kind of marks. Just like these boys from up north. They're ripe for the picking.

Mickey doesn't need me anyway. It's you he wants. Best lure in the business and he knows it." Jake kissed her passionately, opening her mouth under his. When he broke away, his eyes were glazed and they were both breathing quickly.

"You go ahead and take the job and make my excuses. As it is I've got my hands full setting up the game and with any luck it'll go through to Saturday night as well. You go, have fun, and when you get back we'll make love on a bed of money, eh?" he smiled at that last bit and she giggled.

"All right, if you're sure..."

"I'm sure."

_To be continued..._


End file.
